Alice Was a Dancer

I opened my eyes,

High-flown, expired.

After a full arc of moon,

Over cavernous desert night,

Her words spill

Across the marble floor

Of hindsight elect.

Mornings, still freckled,

winter kissed and candy coated,

The silk shore, perfect.

Nearly a lunar month

Buoyant with butterflies,

Wings of wax

In wonderful sunlight,

My heart and a hole intersect.